I'll Be Seeing You
by Emily Lawrence
Summary: Midsomer Murders: Psychologist Eliza is asked to work a puzzling case alongside her uncle Tom. Returning to Midsomer for the first time in years, she is confronted with memories of her past and the meeting of one Sergeant Dan Scott.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: I'll Be Seeing You  
Author: Emily Lawrence  
Summary: Barnaby's niece, Forensic Psychologist Eliza Lockier is asked to work a particularly puzzling case alongside her uncle. Returning to Midsomer for the first time in years, she is confronted with memories of her past and the meeting of one Sergeant Dan Scott.  
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.  
Rating: Not sure yet**

**Chapter One**

X x X x X

_I'll be seeing you_

_In all the old familiar places_

_That this heart of mine embraces_

_All day through_

The noise was deafening. She wondered how no one had heard it and come running yet. Stumbling through the pitch black, knocking into things and trying in vain to ignore the pain in her limbs, the river of blood she felt in her shoes. From somewhere there was the noise of screams and bangs, and above it all...

_I'll be seeing you_

_In every lovely summer's day_

_In everything that's light and gay_

_I'll always think of you that way_

And then he grabbed her, throwing a hand over her mouth to stifle her screams. Too weak and in pain to even struggle, she could only go limp as he dragged her across the floor, all the while that dreadful din sounding.

"Now now, what did I tell you was the first rule in these situations?" The voice was so stern and cut through the noise as clear as day. She trembled as the hand was removed from her mouth and seizing her opportunity, she began to scream. This earned her a slap across the face and the voice moved so it was next to her ear "That is incorrect. The first rule is: don't panic. Can you remember that?"

She could only whimper a response, but this seemed to satisfy because soon enough she felt herself be dragged down a short flight of stairs and dumped unceremoniously on the cold, hard ground. She heard the door lock behind her and knew she was back in her cell. The noise only seemed to be getting louder. She curled up in a ball on the ground and clamped her hands over her ears.

_I'll find you_

_In the morning sun_

_And when the night is new_

All of a sudden, she heard several crashing noises that were too close for comfort. She felt the walls begin to cave in around her, trapping her underneath...

_I'll be looking at the moon_

_But I'll be seeing you_

X x X x X

"Are you sure you're alright, Lizzie?" Dana glanced nervously at her friend from the driver's seat "This is the third time in two months..."

Eliza smiled a little and then winced "I know," She grimaced through bloodstained teeth and a split lip "Do you think they'll let me double up on my counselling sessions? Or at least give me a clothing allowance for all my ruined stuff."

"You shouldn't be making jokes about it, Lizzie." Dana navigated carefully along the narrow streets "It's not healthy to avoid your feelings like this."

"Dana, I don't know why you're so worried. I'm _fine._" Eliza reassured her friend as they pulled up outside their Victorian terrace and got out of the car.

"I'm worried because I keep getting calls in the middle of the night from Accident and Emergency asking me to please come and pick up my housemate as she is unfit to drive due to injuries sustained in the workplace." Dana stomped up the front steps quickly, Eliza following rather more gingerly, supporting her bruised ribs with one arm and holding the other one out to balance herself.

"Not that I mind being called or anything," Dana opened the front door and helped Eliza inside "It's just that I wonder how many times your lip can be split open before you realize that your profession is a completely unsafe one."

Eliza smiled a little at her friend's breezy tones. They both knew this conversation was leading nowhere, that Eliza wasn't going to listen to Dana, and that Dana was going to continue getting frustrated until they both went to bed and the same thing happened again in a few weeks.

"Damn, so I spent all that money on university to go into a job where you aren't wrapped up in cotton wool. Thanks for telling me Dana. I wouldn't have realized otherwise."

Dana nudged her friend as punishment for her sarcasm "No, you spent all that money on university to go and become a human punch bag."

"Well, somebody has to do it."

X x X x X _Two Weeks Later_ X x X x X

The phone was ringing.

Cracking one eye open, Eliza glanced at the bedside clock. Half past eight. Who the bloody hell had the nerve to call at this hour? On a Saturday too.

Eliza picked up the miniscule machine and flipped it open, fighting the urge not to swear at the person on the other end.

"Miss Lockier?"

"Hmm?"

"This is Chief Jonathon Smith from the Causton Police department. I hope you don't mind me calling so early, I got your number from the NCIP Admin. Apparently you're registered as a part-time Behavioural Investigative Advisor?"

"Causton? As in, the West Country?" Eliza propped herself up on her elbows and squinted in the early morning light that was creeping under the curtains. At the mention of Causton her heart had given a little leap. That was a place she hadn't heard of in years. All of a sudden a strange feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

"Ahem...Yes. As I was saying," He sounded stressed "I have called more local Advisors, but they are otherwise engaged. I know you're based in Liverpool, but we are in somewhat of a bind..."

Eliza's heart went out to him. He'd clearly been up all night "Of course, of course. What exactly is the case you want me to look at?"

"There have been three homicides in the village of Midsomer Worthy over the past two weeks. All of the victims were taken and held for at least two nights before turning up dead. The Detective Chief Inspector will be able to give you more when you arrive. His name is DCI Tom Barnaby."

Eliza's breath caught in her throat. She could just say no and have done with it. Put the phone down, shut her eyes and reclaim her weekend. But something in the Chief's weary yet hopeful voice made her think twice.

"... How soon do you need me there?"

X x X x X

Eliza hung up the phone and sighed. Already mentally packing and reminding herself to call work and have her appointments covered, she rolled out of bed and wandered over to the wardrobe. Opening the door and reaching up to the highest shelf, Eliza felt around for the worn out address book that hadn't seen the light of day since she had moved into the house. That strange feeling was still broiling around in her stomach, and she did her best to ignore it. One had to go back sometime, she supposed.

Holding her prize like a dust-covered trophy, Eliza flicked through the pages quickly until she found what she was looking for. Dialling the number she held the phone to her ear and stifled a yawn while it rang, smiling a little in spite of herself when a familiar voice answered.

"Auntie Joyce?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: I'll Be Seeing You  
Author: Emily Lawrence  
Summary: Barnaby's niece, Forensic Psychologist Eliza Lockier is asked to work a particularly puzzling case alongside her uncle. Returning to Midsomer for the first time in years, she is confronted with memories of her past and the meeting of one Sergeant Dan Scott.  
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.  
Rating: Not sure yet**

**Chapter Two**

X x X x X

Detective Chief Inspector Tom Barnaby uncorked the wine and set it on the side, allowing the deep red liquid to breathe. Turning back to the stove he stirred the Bolognese gently and smiled slightly as he caught a glimpse of a mother blackbird in the garden, sat in a small square of light on the grass with her wings spread out, sunning herself in the day's last remaining rays.

Joyce and Cully had been out all day shopping in Causton and when they returned they would have an extra person with them. Earlier that day, Joyce had received a telephone call from their niece in Liverpool with some interesting news. Eliza worked as a Forensic Psychologist at HMP Liverpool but every so often gave profiling advice on murder cases. Jonathon Smith had called her to ask if she would analyse the case that Barnaby was currently working on - Three dead in Midsomer Worthy with seemingly no link. Barnaby knew that Eliza had gained quite a reputation in the North of England for seeing things that members of the constabulary hadn't spotted, and to be honest, he was glad that they were receiving this kind of input on the case. However, his niece had left Causton years ago under somewhat unsavoury circumstances and Barnaby was a little puzzled as to why she had chosen to accept the case.

When they were young, Cully and Eliza had been inseparable and Cully still went to Liverpool on occasion to visit for a few days of shopping and over-indulging in activities that young people considered important, but Eliza had not returned to Causton since she was nineteen. She had lived with her mother (Joyce's younger sister) in Badger's Drift until that fateful August evening all those years ago. Barnaby shivered a little despite the warmth of the evening. He remembered Eliza as a lively, funny young woman, but now he feared that years of being in close contact with some of the country's darkest minds along with the baggage her past created would have made her a different person.

The case in Midsomer Worthy had come to a dead stop. The first victim, Annie Walker, had been found tied to a tree. When she had disappeared she had been wearing jogging attire, but had turned up in a 1940s tea dress with her hair coiffed to perfection. The same had been true of the next two victims, Sara Wakeman and Millie Barnes. All were of varying ages and had been beaten and asphyxiated but there were no signs of sexual assault. The most bizarre thing however, had been the victims' feet. Dr. Bullard had described them in his post-mortem as being 'distressed', meaning they had been covered in bruises and abrasions.

The murders meant that the village had descended into chaos. There had been numerous requests for officers to be posted randomly around the village – requests which were unreasonable given the lack of manpower Causton CID actually had to spare. Barnaby had barely had a wink of sleep since the first murder just under a fortnight before.

The sound of Cully's car pulling up in the driveway brought Barnaby out of his reverie. The front door opened, Joyce and Cully spilled in, elated from their day of retail therapy. Behind them, petite and slender, came a face he hadn't seen in years.

Eliza had cut her blond hair into a bob and wore it messily to frame her elfin face. Her petite frame was dressed fashinably and gave the impression of a modern independant woman. What stuck Barnaby the most, however, was the black eye and split lip, both in the last stages of healing. Eliza smiled at the sight of her uncle.

"Hello, Uncle Tom."

"Lizzie..." Barnaby pulled his niece into a light hug "What on earth happened to you, young lady?"

"Oh," Eliza grinned sheepishly and dipped her head in what Barnaby could tell was a well-rehearsed move to stop people from looking at her "It's an occupational hazard. My housemate despairs of me."

"Are you sure that job of yours is entirely safe, Lizzie?" Joyce looked on, worried as Cully handed her a glass of wine. Eliza smiled good-naturedly, but Barnaby could tell that she was asked this on a regular basis "We have prison officers who are always close by when we're with patients, Auntie Joyce. It's just that sometimes the patients have aggressive breaks that you can't predict and so you get a little bit roughed up."

"You're very casual about it, Lizzie." Cully remarked as they moved to sit around the table. Lizzie shrugged "I guess I've just accepted it as a part of the job, like late office hours or having the desk next to the annoying smelly guy."

They all laughed at this and Eliza smoothly changed the subject to Cully's current acting job. A little too smoothly, Barnaby noticed. She was well practised at diverting the attention from her career choice.

The evening passed pleasantly enough and all retired early, Barnaby making plans with Eliza to visit the latest crime scene the next morning.

X x X x X

Eliza lay awake in the guest room as she knew she would, partly because she was so used to city sounds that she was unable to fall asleep without them and partly because the country made her uneasy these days. It was the reason she had chosen to live in a densely populated area, surrounding herself with noise and light.

So actually, she was unduly relieved when she heard the hallway telephone ring, and Uncle Tom stumble out to answer it. He spoke too quietly for Eliza to hear, and a few moments later the conversation was over and there was a quiet knock at her door. Getting up, Eliza opened the door to reveal a dishevelled and apologetic looking Uncle Tom.

"Sorry Lizzie. Looks like you might be visiting Midsomer Worthy sooner than you thought. There's been another murder."

X x X x X

Sergeant Dan Scott rubbed his eyes wearily as he stared at the scene before him. A replica of the ones that had gone before it. Why couldn't they catch this guy? That is, if it _was_ a guy. Scott had seen plenty since arriving in the countryside and his experiences had taught him not to rule anything out.

A vehicle approached, its headlights casting a momentary but nevertheless gaudy and unpleasant shimmer over the scene. Scott turned in time to see Inspector Barnaby and a young woman emerging from the car and walked over to meet them.

"Evening sir." Barnaby nodded in response and Scott took the opportunity to quickly study the woman he had brought with him. Petite and elfin looking, she had short blond hair and thoughtful eyes, one of which was sporting the remnants of what had probably been a nasty shiner. She hadn't appeared to notice him yet, her gaze still trained fully on the scene. Inspector Barnaby must have caught him looking because he immediately cleared his throat "Ah yes. Sergeant Scott this is Eliza Lockier, the Behavioural Investigative Advisor from Liverpool that Chief Smith requested the services of."

At the mention of her name, Eliza turned to see who she was being introduced to, offering Scott a brief smile and extending her hand "Nice to meet you." Scott took it and returned the smile.

"I should also mention Sergeant, that Eliza is my niece."

Scott hid a surprised look as best he could. The meaningful intonation in the Inspector's voice told him that he should watch himself. Scott cast his mind back for any times in the recent past when he may have voiced his general disdain for psychological experts, or indeed any times when he may given the appearance that his brain was powered by his libido.

His thoughts were pushed aside quickly and he was brought back to the present as Dr. Bullard approached them looking weary and jaded. He nodded to Barnaby "Tom."

Barnaby nodded in response "Hello George. I'd like to introduce you to my niece Eliza. She's the BIA that Chief Smith requested come and look at the case. Lizzie, this is Dr. George Bullard, our resident pathologist."

George held out his hand and Eliza shook it "Pleased to make your acquaintance. Now Tom, did you want me to brief you on the body?"

"Yes George, thank you. Scott, perhaps you could escort Eliza around the scene so she can begin her notes?"

Scott nodded, feeling slightly irritated that he couldn't be there for Dr. Bullard's briefing and was instead being asked to babysit one of the Chief's numerous efforts to bring policing in Causton into the twenty-first century. Before he could say anything, Barnaby had wandered off with Dr. Bullard and he was left standing with Eliza who was busy ignoring him and scribbling in her notebook.

"Do you want to look at the scene then?" he asked, attempting to get her attention. Eliza looked up at him and blinked, having apparently forgotten that he was there. Scott felt yet another twinge of irritation. Eliza smiled gratefully and Scott's attention was drawn to the nearly healed cut on her lip "Yeah that would be great, thank you Sergeant... Scott, was it?"

"That's right. You can call me Dan, though."

"Well thanks, Dan. So, this is the fourth victim, yes?"

"That's right. Amanda Johnson disappeared after evening mass last Sunday and found by a bloke coming back from the pub about three hours ago. Victim was in her late twenties and had been asphyxiated as well as sustaining blows to the head and body.. The clothes she disappeared in haven't been found and the victim appears to have been... dressed up."

Eliza listened intently and nodded, pointedly ignoring the obvious fact that Sergeant Scott would much rather be hearing what the Pathologist had to say alongside his boss "I remember that from the case file I was faxed. All of them in forties fashion, right?"

"Right," Scott confirmed, lifting the police tape for Eliza and then following her under it "So where would you like to look first?"

Eliza straightened up and surveyed the scene. They were stood in a lane on the edge of Midsomer Worthy, just where the village joined the woods. If the victim had been missing for over a week – the longest time any of them had been gone – then this was clearly the dumping ground and not the killing site itself. The killer was intelligent enough to kill at one site and dispose of the body at another, which made them mentally stable enough to be answerable for their actions. These kinds of offenders were usually quite interested in the processes that their crimes initiated and would sometimes return to the crime scene. Had there been a group of nosey pedestrians craning their necks to get a good look over the police tape, Eliza might have been checking them out for any suspicious looking characters. However, it was nearly three o' clock in the morning, so all the sensible serial killers would have been in bed long ago.

Realizing that she had been caught up in her own little world, Eliza turned to see a somewhat impatient looking Sergeant Scott. She smiled sweetly, pretending once again that she hadn't noticed his bad-temperedness "How about the body?"

X x X x X

Two and a half hours later, Eliza had taken all of the notes she would need, had requested post-mortem reports of each of the victims from Dr. Bullard and full crime scene reports and photographs from Causton Police department. She now sat to one side, nursing the cup of coffee that some kind stranger had given her and wondering about the significance of the attire all the victims had been found in.

The body had been partially obscured by leaves and greenery, but not so much that one could not have spotted it upon a second glance. The discoverer of this particular victim had stumbled upon a stray rock on their drunken way home from the pub and upon picking themselves up had come face to face with the wide, dead eyes of Amanda Johnson. This meant that whomsoever had dumped the body there had intended it to be discovered, perhaps not by some drunk rolling home in the wee hours, but possibly by some early morning dog-walker or jogger.

"Lizzie?" Eliza looked up to see her uncle as he strode up to her, Scott in tow, both looking tired and anguished. The morning light was starting to creep over the rooftops, and in Eliza's experience this was the time when all crime scene attendants were at their most irritable as the daylight just served to remind them how long they had been there.

"How are you getting on?" Barnaby questioned his niece. Eliza nodded as enthusiastically as she could in response "Really well actually, plenty of psychopathology. I'll be able to tell you more once I have the scene reports though – I've seen everything I can here for now."

Upon saying the word 'psychopathology', Eliza heard what she thought sounded like a dismissive snort on the part of Sergeant Scott which she chose to ignore. Barnaby heard it too and, rolling his eyes slightly skyward, gave a weary look that only Eliza caught "Well if you're finished here Lizzie, I'll have Scott drive you back to Causton so you can get some rest and the pick up the reports you've requested from the police station later."

Upon hearing this, Scott's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest at having to miss any more time at the scene "Uh, actually sir I was planning on waiting for it to get a bit lighter and then go and knock on a few doors, see if anyone heard anything-" Scott gestured randomly towards the row of cottages backing onto the lane.

"Well you can do that when you get back from Causton then can't you Scott? I mean after all, there's no use having a spare body hanging around the scene waiting for it to get light is there, eh?" Barnaby's eyes twinkled in a way that reminded Eliza of her youth, and she fought the urge to giggle as she watched Scott flounder for a moment and then realize his defeat "Yes, sir."

"Marvellous. Off you both go then."

X x X x X

Would love to know thoughts, suggestions critiques and I'll be bluntly honest - I love praise.

Take care,

Emily Lawrence


	3. Chapter 3

Title: I'll Be Seeing You  
Author: Emily Lawrence  
Summary: Barnaby's niece, Forensic Psychologist Eliza Lockier is asked to work a particularly puzzling case alongside her uncle. Returning to Midsomer for the first time in years, she is confronted with memories of her past and the meeting of one Sergeant Dan Scott.  
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.  
Rating: Not sure yet

Chapter Three

X x X x X

The awkward silence in the car was palpable. Eliza tapped her hands anxiously on her knees and tried desperately to think of something to say. As the car drew up at traffic lights Scott exhaled heavily and beat out a gentle rhythm on the steering wheel.

"So..." Eliza started out of her reverie and cast a glance at Scott, who was clearly searching for a conversation starter "...What information do you think you picked up from the scene? Are we dealing with a crazed axe murderer who was abused as a child and fancied his sister?"

Eliza smiled a little at his choice of words and his off-colour joke. _Aha_, she thought, _yet another profiler-hating bobby_ "I'm not a psychic, sergeant. I look at the evidence in the same way that you do, I just see it differently, that's all. But since you asked, no, we're not dealing with anything like that. From the scene alone I would suggest that the killer is intelligent and aware of their actions. They dumped the victim in a place where they knew she would be found, showing that they aren't afraid to interact with the police through the scene. These killers can be very dangerous, since sometimes it can seem like they're doing it for the approval of the authorities and the public, which means that their crimes will get more and more brutal until they're stopped. "

"Hmm." Still not convinced, Scott chose to end the conversation.

But Eliza wasn't ready to let go of the bone "Do I detect a hint of dislike toward psychological profilers, Sergeant?"

Scott smiled a little in spite of himself "Not dislike, just an inability to see the use of psychology in the criminal justice system. It's nothing personal," He sped the car up as they reached an open stretch of country road "I'm in favour of good, solid evidence."

"I see." Eliza raised her eyebrows "It's not just that you're afraid of people getting inside your head?"

"What? No, of course not." Scott shifted uncomfortably in the driver's seat. Eliza smiled "Don't worry Sergeant, I promise not to analyse you. Or at least not tell you when I do."

Scott glanced over at the passenger seat to see Eliza smirking. This irked him somewhat, that she was so confidant that she was right and what's more, was _teasing _him about it "I'm not afraid."

"I believe you."

"I'm _not_."

"OK."

Silence descended upon the car once more and in an effort to break it, Eliza shifted in her seat so that she was facing Scott "So how long have you been working with my uncle? Cully said you were fairly new to Midsomer still."

"I transferred from London around eight months ago."

"Jesus, London to Causton? And you were awake when you made that decision?"

"Not a fan of the countryside then?"

"It's not that, I just can't understand why you would go from a city like London to a place that looks like God's waiting room."

"Well, it wasn't really my choice."

"...Oh." Feeling a twinge of awkwardness, Eliza suddenly became very interested in looking out of the window, at her own feet or the backs of her hands – anywhere but in the direction of Scott.

"It's not what I expected though." Seeing her obvious embarrassment, Scott chose to throw the girl a bone "Plenty of weird goings on."

Eliza flashed Scott a smile of gratitude "Well, you know what big city coppers say about country-folk."

"What?"

"Nothing. They're all too scared to come here."

X x X x X

Scott pulled the car up at Barnaby's house just as Joyce was emerging in her gardening clothes, struggling with an oversized plant pot. She waved at the pair as they got out and Scott immediately went to her aid "Let me help you with that, Mrs. Barnaby."

"Oh, thank you Daniel. Good morning, Lizzie!" Eliza greeted her aunt with a weary smile. Joyce shielded her eyes as she stared into the sun "Beautiful day. How was the scene?"

"Not pretty." Eliza exchanged grimaces with her aunt, who then turned to Scott "How are you these days Daniel? We never see you."

Scott flashed a charming smile at Joyce, one that Eliza suspected was not entirely unpopular with the ladies "It's been a busy few weeks Mrs. Barnaby. Have you missed me then?"

Joyce let out a laugh "Well what would be the use in me telling you that, Daniel? It would only go to your head. But since you are here, it would be lovely if you could stop round for dinner tonight? Make sure Tom gets home before midnight for once?"

"That would be great Mrs. Barnaby, thank you." Making sure the pot was securely in place, Scott straightened up and turned to face the two women "Well I should be getting back to the scene."

"Thanks for the lift. I guess I'll see you later, then." Scott nodded in response to Eliza's comment, shot a last polite smile to Joyce before getting into the car and driving off.

"So what do you think of Daniel, Lizzie?" Joyce reached for a trowel and knelt next to the flower beds. Eliza leaned against the garden wall "Sarky."

Joyce laughed "That's what your uncle said."

"Doesn't seem too keen on the psych bods." Eliza shielded her eyes against the bright sunshine "But then again," She stared down the road after Scott, "I don't think I've ever met a police officer who is."

X x X x X

Eliza lay on her back in the middle of the bedroom floor surrounded by the notes she had taken at the scene, staring at the ceiling and trying to put together a preliminary mental picture. She used the ceiling as a blank canvas, trying to get into some sort of Alpha state. It was a trick often used by writers who wanted to reach a higher level of creativity and Eliza found that by doing it, she could mentally access the scene and view the evidence from a different angle.

The ropes used to bind the victim's hands behind the tree had been tied loosely and haphazardly. This was unusual considering the precise neatness of the rest of the scene. No fingerprints or trace evidence found. The bizarre way the bodies had been dressed had an almost... artistic flair to it. Their hair was perfect as were their nails and make-up. Why would a killer who had gone to all that trouble to stage a body-dump in such an elaborate way then decide that there was no need to tie the dead body up as if she was still alive and kicking? The simple answer, he wouldn't. It was more than his personality would allow.

"Two killers?" Eliza whispered to herself. Perhaps. There was certainly evidence to suggest that there had been more than one personality at the scene.

Aside from the cuts and bruises on the bodies that were consistent with being crushed or trapped underneath something, there were no signs of torture, no obvious sexual abuse, nothing to suggest that the victims had been hurt while they were being held.

_Aside from the feet..._

What was so important about the victim's feet? Eliza had inspected them at the scene and there was something familiar about the state of them that she couldn't place.

The sound of laughter from downstairs interrupted Eliza's train of thought. She muttered a few choice words to herself for not concentrating hard enough and tried to regain her state of non-thought.

"Lizzie! Would you like a glass of wine?" Cully's voice carried up the stairs.

Now that offer sounded too good to pass up. Eliza hoisted herself to her feet and wandered downstairs where she was greeted with a large glass of Merlot and chopping knife from Cully "Come on old girl, enough work for today. There are some peppers with your name on them."

Eliza followed Cully into the kitchen where strains of Latin music could be heard from the stereo and all sorts of wonderful smells were originating. Joyce was stood over the stove bopping along to the music and Eliza had to smile in spite of herself. This was a scene she remembered well from her youth. The family meals, the excellent food and company were things Eliza had missed ever since her silent exit from Midsomer all those years ago.

The three women laughed and joked as they prepared the food. Slowly, the volume of the music increased and the wine glasses were refilled. Eliza found herself doing something entirely unlike her – relaxing. She envied the closeness between Cully and Joyce. After her mother's marriage to George, Eliza's relationship with her had been strained to say the least. In fact, that had been the point when she and Cully had gotten so close and Eliza had started spending all her time in Causton.

Nobody noticed the sound of the front door opening as the music was reaching a raucous crescendo and Cully was giving Eliza a basic salsa lesson. Barnaby and Scott could only stare from the kitchen doorway at the three women doubled up with laughter.

"Lizzie – you – are – rubbish..." Cully wheezed uncontrollably at her cousin's miserable lack of coordination. Eliza and Joyce were leaning against each other for support, giggling.

Barnaby cleared his throat and the three women jumped as if a shot had rung out. All was silent for a second before the laughter got the best of Eliza and she snorted into the dishtowel that had been wiping her teary eyes. Barnaby shot an amused glance at his niece before opening a second bottle of wine and pouring a glass for himself and Scott.

Soon, all were gathered around the dining room table and order had been restored.

"That was a very interesting dance step you were exhibiting, Lizzie."

Eliza smiled good-naturedly "Thank you. I call it The Goose."

"You always were utterly shameless, Lizzie." Joyce smiled fondly at her niece "I still remember the little girl who stood up in the middle of a school assembly and announced there was no Father Christmas."

"Well, it was an important discovery," Eliza took a sip of her wine and grinned "Ethically, I couldn't justify keeping it from everyone."

Conversation continued light-heartedly for a while and Scott surveyed Eliza from the other end of the table. Her smile was genuine and it lit up her whole face. She tucked into her food without abandon, and her conversation was animated and well humoured. Every so often she would glance to the end of the table and flash him a sweet grin. Scott sent back a reserved smile. He was, he had to admit, still mildly uncomfortable around the 'psychic pixie' as the lower ranking officers had dubbed her (When Inspector Barnaby was out of earshot of course) and he sensed that she knew it. He also sensed that Eliza was the type of person who would make a point of exploiting that to amuse herself. Not in a spiteful way, but in a way that suggested she was not altogether unfamiliar with 'levelling the playing field', so to speak.

"I'd like to go back to Midsomer Worthy at some point, to have a bit of a root around." Eliza was saying, smiling in gratitude as Joyce refilled her wine glass. A smile, Scott noticed, that was slightly askew due to the amount of wine that had been consumed. A quick glance over to the several empty bottles on the kitchen side confirmed this.

"That sounds reasonable Lizzie. I'm sure Sergeant Scott would be happy to drive over with you again and accompany you. Scott?"

"Oh no Uncle Tom, I'm sure Sergeant Scott wants to get on with some real police work...?" Eliza left the question hanging in the air and sure enough, as Scott stared down the table he was met with that smile. That cheeky, knowing smile. The smile that told him she _knew_ exactly how annoyed he was at the prospect of having to spend the course of the investigation babysitting a practitioner of dark arts. Scott felt his insides burning but managed a pleasant smile "No, I'd be happy to."

Eliza cocked her head to one side innocently, like Snow White listening to the animals "Are you sure?" she was giving him an out. She thought he couldn't take it! Scott could scarcely believe it. Well, there was no way on earth he was going to allow her to believe that he was scared of whatever voodoo it was that she practised. He held her gaze steadily, not about to be the first one to break their stare-out "No it's fine. Don't worry about it."

"Oh you are _good_ Daniel. I wonder why you haven't found a nice girl yet?" Joyce smiled kindly as she rose to clear the table.

"You're right Auntie Joyce," Eliza said, her eyes never leaving Scott's "That truly _is_ a mystery."

X x X x X

Sorry it took so long to update – university exams are horrible.

Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

Title: I'll Be Seeing You  
Author: Emily Lawrence  
Summary: Barnaby's niece, Forensic Psychologist Eliza Lockier is asked to work a particularly puzzling case alongside her uncle. Returning to Midsomer for the first time in years, she is confronted with memories of her past and the meeting of one Sergeant Dan Scott.  
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.  
Rating: Not sure yet

Chapter Four

X x X x X

Sergeant Scott's mood hadn't improved in the slightest by the time that Eliza jumped in the car the next morning, her white-blonde hair set in gentle waves and several tubes and bits and pieces spilling from her handbag. With a sunny "Good morning!" that pointedly ignored the waves of hostility exuding from Scott, she flipped down the sun visor and as the car began to pull away, started to apply her makeup.

"Wouldn't it have been better to do that inside?" Scott watched with half an eye as Eliza dabbed powder over her face.

"Running a bit late this morning, didn't want to keep you waiting." She muttered, giving her blusher the utmost concentration.

"Do you want me to pull over?" Scott asked through gritted teeth. Eliza turned to him, eyes wide and innocent "Is this bothering you?"

"What? No, I just don't want to stop at some traffic lights and have you accidentally blind yourself with your mascara brush."

Eliza laughed "Don't worry about it, I run terminally late so often now I'm proficient at applying make up on trains, planes and in taxis. Once I even managed it on the back of a motorbike."

"Is it really that important to you?"

Eliza paused in the middle of applying a dramatic lick of liquid eyeliner "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well," Scott pulled up at a set of traffic lights and turned to face her "Let's just say I never met a career girl who cared what other people thought of her." For the first time that morning, Scott took in Eliza's full appearance. She donned a pair of smart yet fashionable heels with a black high-waisted skirt and white shirt. Adding this to a carefully powdered face and coiffed hair, Scott laughed inwardly. There was no way this woman was taken seriously in her work.

Eliza jutted out her chin defiantly, meeting Scott's gaze. A sudden beep from behind the car alerted them to the fact that the lights had long since gone green. Scott pulled away and Eliza turned back to the tiny mirror "You forget Daniel, that I make my living knowing the ins and outs of what _other people_ think. You'd be surprised how helpful taking care of one's appearance is."

"Oh yeah? Amaze me."

Eliza applied a final slick of deep red lipstick and sighed. Reclining in her seat she pulled a small glass bottle out of her handbag, applying spritzes to her wrists and neck, filling the car with the scent of pepper, honeysuckle and jasmine "I'd wager that you think looking like this means I don't get taken seriously."

"Astonishing stuff." How had she known that?

Eliza shrugged "Never mind." She settled back and stared out of the window. Scott, feeling as though he had achieved a minor victory by annoying her, drove into Midsomer Worthy under the impression that for the first time since this extroverted young woman had arrived on his territory, that he had the upper hand. Somewhat smugly he announced "It would probably be best to start at the Eight Bells pub – all the victims used to frequent there and lived nearby." Eliza merely answered with a nod and Scott found himself mildly excited by the prospect of watching her being taken down a peg when faced with the people of Midsomer Worthy. No self respecting resident or witness would give any information to a well-dressed, attractive woman who was alien to the area.

Little did he know that he was about to be proven very wrong indeed.

X x X x X

Stepping into The Eight Bells pub, Eliza fished a pair of black rimmed glasses out of her bag and put them on.

"I didn't know you wore glasses." Scott spoke for the first time since they had been in the car. Eliza flashed him a smile as she uncapped a pen "I don't."

"Then why...?" but she had already strode ahead of him towards the bar where a large, imposing gentleman was cleaning pint glasses.

"Good morning," she smiled pleasantly at the barman "My name in Eliza Lockier, and this is Sergeant Scott with the Causton constabulary-"

"We've already had the police around here asking questions." A sharp voice rang out from the other end of the bar where a short, stout man stood. He was balding and irritable looking. Eliza smiled self-deprecatingly, leaning over the bar a little too flirtatiously for Scott's liking "I understand sir, but I'm an independent agency working alongside the police. I'm currently conducting my own investigation. Would the both of you gentlemen mind answering a few questions for me?"

"Harumph." The shorter man grunted and Scott felt a small pang of pity for Eliza. The girl clearly didn't know how to work the people of Midsomer. The pity was short-lived however, when he saw the man set down the crate he was carrying and waddle towards them, looking Eliza up and down suspiciously "What exactly is it you do, love?"

"I'm a psychologist, sir. I'm here as a consult to the constabulary." Eliza smiled sweetly at both of the men. The larger of the two looked away bashfully, and the shorter man snorted derisively. If this bothered Eliza she didn't show it. Instead she continued to smile expectantly. Realizing that being rude wouldn't put her off, the short man shrugged his shoulders dismissively "Alright then, but you won't get no more out of me than what the other officer got."

"Well now, that rather depends on the questions. But I would like to interview the both of you if that's possible."

"You can't interview him," The short man said abruptly, waving away the larger man dismissively "He's retarded and doesn't know nothing anyway."

Eliza sucked the air in through her nostrils so imperceptibly that only Scott noticed it "We could arrange for an appropriate adult for your...?"

"Brother. Little brother."

"For your brother, Mr....?"

"Wudarski. Adam Wudarski."

"That's an interesting name. Polish?" Just then, a small group of customers trickled in through the door. Adam Wudarski nudged his brother and nodded toward the customers.

Once his brother was out of earshot, he turned to Eliza and Scott "I don't want you talking to my brother about this. Them women that died were regulars in here and he didn't take it very well."

"Was he friendly with them?" Eliza's brows knitted together, her eyes narrowing behind the glasses only she and Scott knew to be false.

Adam Wudarski shrugged dismissively "They seemed to know him well enough to chat to him when they came in. Look, it's getting quite busy, can we do this another time?" he gestured behind them to the steady stream of locals making their way in. Eliza nodded thoughtfully "Thank you for your time. We still may need to talk to your brother at some point though."

Wudarski's eyes narrowed "Look," he began agitatedly "I don't want you upsetting him anymore than he already is, do you understand?"

"But Mr. Wudarski, what if he knows something about the person we're looking for? If he spoke to the victims regularly, chances are they may have mentioned something worth knowing."

The stout man sighed theatrically "You can speak to him. But only when I'm around, got it? I won't have your lot intimidating him." And with that, he stormed off to the other end of the bar, greeting locals warmly and shooting a poisonous backward glance toward Eliza and Scott.

Eliza responded to this by smiling brightly and calling to the other end of the bar "Thanks for everything Mr. Wudarski – you've been a real help!"

X x X x X

"He wasn't any help at all! It was a huge waste of time!" Scott exploded as they left the pub. Eliza slipped her glasses back into her handbag and smiled at him "No, but the people in the pub don't need to know that. For all they know, both brothers told us everything they knew, meaning that there's a good chance that others will now follow their lead now they know that they aren't the only ones co-operating."

Everything she said made perfect sense, but that didn't mean Scott had to _like it_ "And what's with the glasses?" he grumbled petulantly "Pretending to be short sighted makes them feel sorry for you?"

Eliza shrugged "One of the first things I ever learnt in psychology is that when you present a certain group of core traits to someone, they tend to make assumptions about any other traits you may have. It's called the Halo Effect. Glasses are intrinsically tied to intelligence in our minds and despite this perception being completely inaccurate and having no empirical basis whatsoever, most people still tend to think that a speccy-four-eyes is also a smarty-pants."

"That..." Scott couldn't argue with the logic of it "... is actually quite cool."

For the first time since Scott had met Eliza she actually seemed bashful "Thank you." She said shyly, colouring prettily "Where to next?"

"If you like, we could go and check out the victim's homes. Forensics are done there, so you'd have the places to yourself."

"Sounds like a plan."

The pair walked in silence through the village a short while. The weather was pleasantly warm and most of the village residents were out and about. Shouts and laughs of glee could be heard from the village schoolyard.

"Is it strange being back in Midsomer?" Scott's voice broke into Eliza's thoughts as she attempted to take in the sights and sounds of a lifestyle she had long since fought to put behind her. She smiled slightly "A little bit. Wierd not being in the city at all really. I miss the noise."

"I know what you mean. When I first arrived here I had my brother record traffic noises and send them to me from London just so I could sleep. Strange how you miss the thing you hate the most."

"Tell me about it." Scott thought he spotted a sad little smile grace Eliza's lips and declined to question her any further. The silence between them didn't last long though, because once again, Eliza composed herself and smiled sunnily at him "So, is babysitting a witch doctor everything you thought it would be?"

Scott's heart dipped as he reeled from the accuracy of her statement. His surprise, however, was quickly replaced with mild annoyance at the idea that she thought she knew what he was thinking. The fact that she had been right in almost every instance was neither here nor there as far as he was concerned "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh come on. I bet you'd much rather be off doing some 'real' police work instead of acting as a chaperone to an outside consult whose methods you don't entirely approve of."

"I just do what I'm told." Scott said heatedly.

"_Really."_ Eliza pronounced the word with false incredulity, which served to annoy Scott even further. By this time they had reached the pretty country lane leading to the house owned by the first victim, Annie Walker. Scott folded his arms and narrowed his eyes at Eliza "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Eliza stopped and leaned against a fence, stooping down gracefully to adjust her heel. She straightened and squinted at him in the bright sunshine "Just that you don't strike me as the sort of guy who submits easily. There's obeying your boss and then there's feeling like you're being allowed to do your job."

Scott stared at her, now hoisting herself up on the fence and reaching into her bag for a tube of lipstick and a compact mirror. She crossed her legs and looked to be making herself comfortable. Scott noticed that she had applied the powder slightly heavier around that eye that was still healing. He said nothing in reply and so she continued "Likely a bit of a ladies man but most definitely not a cad, suggesting a genuine shyness when it comes to intimacy. A love of your job but a tendency towards either the slightly heavy handed or unorthodox in terms of methods, meaning that you may have come to blows with the upper echelons more than once. More than one brother?" She paused to apply her lipstick primly, letting her left heel dangle languidly from her foot while Scott stared at her in shock. Her hazel eyes slid from the ornate compact mirror up to his green ones "It's just there's this incredibly thirst to prove yourself to your superiors. I'm guessing two older brothers who you absolutely worshipped?"

Scott opened his mouth to reply, to tell her that actually, she was completely wrong and he did everything by the book and had had a thousand women. All he could manage, however, was a strangled "Three brothers."

"Bloody hell. Your mum must have had her hands full with you lot." Eliza hopped down from the fence and gestured down the road "Shall we carry on?"

"Don't you want to know if you were right?"

"Oh. OK, was I right?"

Scott began to wonder why Eliza had reeled off all of this information and then didn't even want to know if she had been accurate. But then it dawned on him "You think you're right anyway don't you?"

She wrinkled her nose "When you say it like that it makes me sound dreadfully obnoxious."

"It's true though isn't it?" Scott caught up with Eliza and fell into step with her "You don't feel like you need to check your assumptions? You just think you're right anyway."

Eliza sighed and stopped "Look, Sergeant Scott, I understand that the idea of someone analysing your personality makes you uncomfortable, most likely because you don't like feeling as though you are being pigeon-holed. But despite what you think about my profession, psychology is a recognized discipline and the margin for error is so narrow that first-time accuracy is essential. I happen to be very, _very_ good at what I do."

They reached Annie Walker's cottage, tucked away at the end of the lane. The nearest house was around fifty yards away and the lane had become too narrow for cars a while back.

"While she was married, Annie Walker lived in London and made a living as a pretty vicious lawyer. Once divorced however, she moved out to the country and started working from home as a proof reader for legal journals. She was fairly well known around the village – friendly but abrasive, apparently."

"No kids?" Nothing had been mentioned about anyone living with her in the file. Scott shook his head "Nope. Didn't like them apparently. Are you ready to go in?"

Inside, the cottage was cool and homely. It had the strange atmosphere that houses sometimes get, Eliza observed, when the being living in them had been permanently removed but parts of them were left behind – Washing folded and ready to be put away, a book left open on the sideboard. All things that the owner had fully intended to come back to. For a moment, Eliza immersed herself in the home's personality. Legal books and journals lined the shelves, the artwork and furniture was tasteful but conservative. A little later, Eliza would look in the wardrobe and discover the largest collection of business suits ever. Apparently, even though she no longer had any use for them, Annie Walker had had difficulty letting go of the clothes that symbolised the power and influence she once held.

"So what is it you're looking for here?" Scott watched Eliza as she wandered alongside the bookshelves, running a single slender finger along the titles (Alphabetically placed). The midday sun beamed through the cottage windows, the dust particles floating gracefully in the ray of light.

"Victimology is an important part of building a criminal profile. When we know everything we can about each victim, we can make comparisons about them and their lifestyle. This contributes to what we know about the killer's MO and therefore, what we know about the killer."

"And what can you tell about Annie Walker?"

"Smart, work-oriented. No pets or evidence of needing company – I'd say she was happy alone. No family pictures?"

"Only child."

"Hmm." Eliza wandered around the house with Scott trailing after her answering the occasional question. What neither of them was aware of was the tall thin man hidden in the hallway cupboard, his ear pressed up against the door straining to hear them talking.

Frank Jones tried to keep his breathing quiet and mentally hit himself on the forehead for coming back so soon. He felt his stomach knot up as he heard footsteps approaching the cupboard, and almost let out a sigh of relief as he heard them moving further away again. He patted his pocket, full to the brim with letters, pieces of jewellery and photographs as if to reassure himself that he had gotten what he had come here for. As soon as he heard the footsteps and voices disappear upstairs, Frank crept from the cupboard as quietly as he could, and slipped out of the back door.

X x X x X

The process took about two hours and was repeated at the homes of the next two victims, Sara Wakeman and Millie Barnes. By the time they left Millie Barnes' cottage in the centre of Midsomer Worthy, it was early evening and Scott was by now well past irritated. The early evening sun cast a serene orange glow over the village as he and Eliza wandered into the middle of the village.

"You know, if you like I can probably cover this last house by myself and get a taxi back to Causton. I'm sure you want to get on home." Eliza felt that Scott had probably been punished enough for one day, and if the tiny crease between his eyebrows and the ill-tempered look in his eyes was anything to go by, one more session of rooting through a victim's things looking for psychopathology may be enough to send him over the edge.

Scott couldn't help but be grateful for her benevolence "Are you sure you'll be OK?" He didn't fully hear her reply, as his mind had already drifted home ahead of him to a curry and a cold beer. Or several. He whipped out a business card and handed it to her "That's my mobile number. Call if you need any help?"

Eliza smiled and took it "Thanks. Amanda Johnson's house is just down there right?" She motioned towards a small lane tucked between the corner shop and the post office. Scott nodded "Willow Cottage. Are you sure you don't need any help?" he called, already backing towards the Eight Bells, behind which the car was parked.

"Don't worry about it. Go, I'll see you soon." Eliza was already heading towards the lane, attempting to bring her tired brain back into an analytical mindset. She had been out of sight no longer than forty-five seconds and Scott had no sooner reached the car when a shout of "HEY!" shattered the tranquil village silence.

Scott, his heart sinking, turned around and raced back to where the shout had come from. He arrived back at the lane in time to see a skinny man clutching a folder that looked suspiciously similar to the one that Eliza had been carting around, disappear into an awaiting van. Scott watched as the van shot off into the distance, its tyres squealing and engine over-revving. His mind suddenly turned to Eliza, who had not yet emerged from the lane.

He found her just as she was coming round by a stile leading up to the woods behind Midsomer Worthy, a small trickle of blood on her forehead and her lip newly split. She swore emphatically as he helped her to sit up "Did he get the folder or the handbag?"

"Don't worry about that now." Scott fished a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the blood on her lip "Hold still. Did you hit your head very hard?"

"I don't know. The punch knocked me out." Eliza winced as he moved her hair back to get a better look at the surprisingly benign looking cut just behind her hair line. Scott also noticed a small, fully healed scar near her temple. Working in the prisons must be tough. Eliza spied her handbag lying on the ground a few feet away

"Shut your eyes." He said gently, angling her face toward the low evening sun. Clearly familiar with the drill of checking someone's pupil reactions, Eliza did as she was told.

"OK, now open them." She did so, her pupils contracting immediately when they came into contact with the light.

"Can you stand?" Eliza nodded weakly. Still somewhat dazed, she allowed him to help her to her feet. She steadied herself against him for a moment and Scott briefly caught a hint of her scent. That morning it had made her seem like the most irritating person in the world. Now, it just made her seem small and feminine. Keep a hand on her lower back, he guided her out of the lane and back towards to car. Eliza stayed quiet, the bewildered look still in her eyes. She stayed close to Scott and when she finally spoke all she managed was "I really wish he'd gotten my handbag instead."

"Don't worry about that now, you've been hurt."

"I'm alright." She murmured quietly, and Scott could tell she wasn't sure she believed it. He bundled her into the car, got in himself and for a moment, they sat in silence.

Eliza was the one who broke it "My lip was nearly healed as well."

"Does this happen a lot in HMP Liverpool?"

"Sometimes. No more than can be expected." Eliza appeared to have composed herself. As she had that morning, she flipped down the sun visor and attempted to clean herself up a little, and, almost as if she were subconsciously aware that Scott were about to ask if this upset her at all, smoothly changed the subject "Did you see the bag he was carrying? It might as well have had 'Swag' written on it. He came from Amanda Johnson's house you know."

Whether Scott noticed the swift subject change or not will never be known, as his attention was caught by the sudden addition of a suspect character lingering around a victim's house "Really? And he took your folder?"

Eliza nodded. Scott found himself wishing he'd made more of an effort to collar the bloke "You saw what he looked like, right?"

"Skinny, shifty-looking. Black jacket, ripped jeans. Dark hair."

Scott thought for a moment "OK," he said quietly "I'll take you back to Causton and then go and check out Amanda Johnson's myself."

"What are you thinking? More than just a burglar?" Eliza stared at him, brows knitted together. Scott nodded thoughtfully "Then I'm coming with you."

"It's probably not a good idea, Eliza."

"Nonsense. Besides, I agree with you. And if we're right, that makes things quite a lot worse."

"How do you mean?"

"The fact that he took my folder instead of my handbag indicates that he's not just a burglar – he knew what we were doing there and he _knew_ that something in that folder would lead us to him."

X x X x X

This is the fastest I've ever cranked out a chapter, and the most enthusiastic I've ever been about solving a mystery. Please Review!

P.S. The study into The Halo Effect was conducted by Thorndyke in 1920 – check it out, it's a pretty interesting piece of psychology.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: I'll Be Seeing You  
Author: Emily Lawrence  
Summary: Barnaby's niece, Forensic Psychologist Eliza Lockier is asked to work a particularly puzzling case alongside her uncle. Returning to Midsomer for the first time in years, she is confronted with memories of her past and the meeting of one Sergeant Dan Scott.  
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.  
Rating: Not sure yet

Chapter Five

X x X x X

There was a slight wobble in Eliza's gait as she and Scott made their way back to the first victim's house, having decided it would be prudent to check what was missing from the homes Eliza had already looked over. Scott had notified the station with a description of their robber and several of the WPCs were currently sifting through old records on the off-chance that their man had priors. Scott stayed close to Eliza as she walked, ready to leap into action should she slip and fall, her spinning head getting the best of her.

Eliza noticed this almost immediately but chose to say nothing. She guessed he felt guilty at taking the first opportunity to leave her alone. Not only this, but he was probably attempting to work out what he would tell her uncle. For the first time since she had arrived in Midsomer, Eliza felt a pang of pity for the young sergeant and, despite the fact that she could easily reel off ten other occasions from which she had emerged decidedly worse than this, she knew that starting an argument about something so harmless as a young man's good intentions would be petty and churlish.

Despite the early evening, it was swelteringly hot. Scott had left his jacket in the car and as he and Eliza made their way down the lane to Annie Walker's cottage he loosened his tie, trying not to shudder as he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine. A glance as Eliza told him she seemed to be suffering as well. She had rolled up the sleeved of her white blouse and there was a slight sheen to her forehead. Scott allowed a small smile as he remembered what his mother had always said in hot weather 'Ladies never sweat. They glisten.'

Entering into the cool of Annie Walker's cottage, both heaved a small sigh of relief. It was short-lived however, when Scott spotted something out of the corner of his eye and craned around the stairway to get a better look.

"We didn't leave that open."

"Didn't leave what... _Oh_."

For a moment the two were silent as they both stared down the corridor at the door of the cupboard under the stairs that had been left wide open, as though someone had bolted from their hiding place and not thought to close it again.

It was Scott who spoke first "Do you think that means he was in there while we were here?"

"Not only that," Eliza suppressed an involuntary shudder "It means he's probably been tailing us all day."

"Why though? If he knew we were going to each of the victim's houses in order, why not start at the most recent victim's house and work his way back?"

Eliza shrugged "The best way to avoid a missile is to stand as close to it as possible."

X x X x X

"There was a pile of notebooks on the sideboard here," Eliza observed as, once again, she walked the grid in Annie Walker's living room "Four or five at least. Mostly legal notes."

"Why would he take that and not, say, the expensive looking crystal dish?" Scott eyed the offending object taking pride of place on the coffee table. Eliza sighed and gingerly touched her forehead, wincing slightly "The same reason he took my notes and not my Chanel handbag. There was something I spotted that he didn't want us to know. Now, whether it was anything to do with the fact that these women ended up dead is a different story."

"What else would he be trying to hide?"

Eliza shrugged "All sorts of things. He could have been stalking them, or blackmailing them."

"Still, it would be a pretty big leap to assume that he wouldn't have had _anything_ to do with the deaths."

Eliza stopped in her tracks and stared at Scott, her head cocked to one side as she had done the night before when asking him if he was _sure_ he didn't mind driving her to the victim's houses. Scott suspected that this scrutinizing look was going to appear a lot over the course of the investigation and once again felt his annoyance rising.

"Are you going to ask me if I'm sure again?" he asked hotly "Because if you are, I'm not. I'm just thinking out loud. Not all of us have the luxury of hitting the nail on the head on the first try."

Eliza stared at him for a moment, and then a slow, easy smile spread across her face "So I _was_ right earlier."

"That's not what I-" Scott spluttered indignantly, but Eliza had already swept from the room.

"Besides," Scott continued fiercely as he followed her into an immaculate study, where she had seated herself primly in the office chair, hands folded delicately in her lap as she looked around, trying to remember what she had seen earlier "Haven't you ever heard of Occam's Razor? The most rational answer-"

"-Is usually the correct one. The only problem with Occam's Razor, Sergeant Scott, is that rationality is supposedly based in truth. But as we all know, truth is always strange. Stranger than fiction."

"Ah yes, Lord Byron. That well-known scientific authority." Scott said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"As opposed to William of Ockham, who was a medieval monk?" Eliza smirked.

Scott opened and shut his mouth wordlessly like a fish, but Eliza's attention was now on the desk "There were photographs here." She said slowly, puzzled "I noticed them because they were old. Like, really old." None of the victims had had children or many close family members to speak of. Sara Wakeman had a sister living in Canada and Millie Barnes' diary had showed weekly visits to an elderly relative in Badger's Drift, but other than that, each victim had led a solitary existence.

"You're thinking like a grandparent or a parent or something? Why would he want those?"

"I'm not sure..." Eliza's frown deepened "It's unlikely that the victims were of any relation to each other and so we can rule out a genetic motive on the part of the robber. However, a family photo isn't going to fetch any money so it's likely that it was significant to the person that took it."

Scott leaned against the doorframe and heaved a sigh "We really have to find this guy."

"Or guys." Eliza propped her chin up on her arm. Seeing the look Scott gave her she realized that that was not what he had meant "Oh! You mean the robber. Oh yes of course..."

"What do you mean, guys?"

"Oh it's nothing really, just an idea I hit upon last night concerning the scene." She failed to explain any further and Scott gave her an enquiring glance "... and?"

Eliza wrinkled her nose "I tend not to give out information concerning the profile until it's finished. It's not easy to dismiss earlier information that may turn out to be irrelevant and that can influence how effective the profile is."

"But you think there's two of them?"

Eliza put a hand gingerly to her forehead where the most remarkable goose egg was now developing "There was evidence to suggest two personalities, but I'd appreciate it if you kept that to yourself for now as I'm not sure what context they appear in."

"Context? What other context could they possibly appear in other than the murdering kind?"

"Big difference between murder and accessory to murder, Sergeant." Eliza said mildly, as if she had expected him to know that. Scott felt his annoyance rising as he realised she was right.

"Anyhow," Eliza hoisted herself unsteadily to her feet "That's for the lawyers to worry about." She pasted a cheerful smile across her face and tried to sound breezy, but Scott caught the grimace as she pressed a hand to her rapidly swelling lip "That's it, I'm taking you home."

"I'm _fine_..." But Eliza allowed Scott to gently place a hand on her lower back and led her out of the cottage and back to his car.

Eliza slid into the passenger seat and closed her eyes. Scott stared at her from the driver's seat "Are you sure you don't want to go to A&E?"

She shook her head "I just need a big glass of brandy and you know... death."

"Well euthanasia is sort of frowned upon by the force, but I could probably sort you out with a brandy."

Eliza opened one eye and managed a watery smile "Sold."

X x X x X

Sorry for the delay – back at uni now and attempting to write my dissertation. Hope you enjoyed this quite short one 


	6. Chapter 6

Title: I'll Be Seeing You  
Author: Emily Lawrence  
Summary: Barnaby's niece, Forensic Psychologist Eliza Lockier is asked to work a particularly puzzling case alongside her uncle. Returning to Midsomer for the first time in years, she is confronted with memories of her past and the meeting of one Sergeant Dan Scott.  
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.  
Rating: Not sure yet

Chapter Six

X x X x X

Eliza smiled gratefully as Scott placed a glass of Brandy in one hand and a tumbler of ice in the other. She took a gulp and held the ice filled tumbler to her aching head "That's the stuff." She was now curled up kittenishly on one of the huge sofas in the friendly inn Scott had driven them to, a stone's throw away from Inspector Barnaby's house in Causton. The windows had been open all day allowing the summer air to filter in and cool, and the last of the evening's rays threw squares of light over the inn's threadbare carpet. Scott watched Eliza from the sofa opposite, noticing her rumpled blouse, the random reminders scribbled on the back of her hand in biro, the little ladders in the soles of her tights from where she'd kicked off her heels at the first opportunity. Scott took a sip of his pint, still wondering how on earth he was supposed to explain this to Inspector Barnaby.

As if able to read his mind (and to be honest, Scott was beginning to wonder), Eliza caught his eye and smiled reassuringly. Well, at least he thought it was a smile. To the untrained observer it looked liked a menacing snarl – Eliza's still swollen bottom lip had taken on a purplish hue and halfway through the car journey she had suddenly found it very difficult to talk "Don't worry about what Uncle Tom will think. I'm sure he'll forgive you... in time."

Scott smiled a little bitterly into his glass "Don't even joke about that. I still haven't figured out how to live up to my predecessor's reputation."

"Ah yes, the lovely Sergeant Troy." Eliza smiled slightly, smoothing down her skirt.

"You met him?"

"Not once. But Cully was sweet on him for a while so naturally I knew everything about him."

"Really?" Scott thought back to all the innocent flirting he had engaged in with Cully and mentally slapped himself on the forehead.

Eliza had reached in to her bag and once again, pulled out her compact mirror. It occurred to Scott that during the course of the day she had done this several times, but never once had stopped to look bashfully at him and say 'You must think me _terribly_ vain.'. Her blatant disregard for what he thought about her had irked him for some reason that he couldn't quite grasp but now, as he watched her grimace at her reflection and then shrug it off as though that level of injury were commonplace, he saw someone who viewed herself with a psychologist's eye. To Eliza, her body was just a specimen, another variable to place within a situation to change the outcome. Scott wondered if she just sort of existed in a permanent out-of-body state, not aware that the battered and beaten little body she saw in the mirror every day was really hers.

Eliza stuffed the compact into her bag and drained the rest of her brandy. Scott motioned to the barmaid for another and when it arrived, Eliza smiled gratefully "Well aren't you a gentleman. I don't think I've ever had a bloke keep an eye on my drink status before."

"We are a bit thin on the ground." Scott agreed jokingly.

"I can't think why. I love all that stuff."

"You'd be the only one. From what I hear, women love a bastard."

Eliza laughed a little "Well that too. Everyone loves to think they could tame a badass. The only problem is," she took a sip of brandy "that once they're tame, it all gets very boring."

"God," Scott shook his head "No wonder we can't get it right. You're all mad."

"Not mad. Just complex." Eliza smiled.

X x X x X

"Thanks for walking me home."

"Well I wouldn't be a gentlemen if I didn't." The two stood in front of Inspector Barnaby's house. Scott had left the car at the pub but insisted on walking Eliza back through the early evening.

Eliza's eyes were drooping from the brandy and as Scott looked at her she was fighting a yawn.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come in and explain to Inspector Barnaby so you can go on the bed? You look just about ready to drop."

Eliza managed a smile "No it's OK, but thank you. I'm sure Cully's told him about the scraps I've been in over the years so I very much doubt he'll be surprised."

Scott watched until she was safely inside the house before wandering off into the balmy evening, the faint scent of Eliza's perfume mingling with the warm air.

X x X x X

Scott lay in bed tossing and turning for well over an hour until finally, with an irritated sigh, he wrenched the pillow off the bed and padded into his kitchen where he lay on the floor, the chilly tiles soothing his overheated body.

Every single window in the flat had been flung open the moment he'd gotten home, but it had done little more than push the warm air around. After spending much longer than would be considered appropriate for an adult male under a freezing cold shower, Scott had stripped down to his boxers and attempted to rest his tired eyes.

But although he wouldn't care to admit it, something other than the lack of fresh air in Causton was bothering him.

And she wore false glasses, dressed up to the nines just for work, and seemed to know him simply by looking at him.

An outsider looking in might believe this was the beginning of a crush, but Scott refused to even consider it. It was too obvious. Besides, he wasn't a fan of blondes.

But she _was_ a puzzle to him. Seemingly outgoing, bright, youthful in her attitude, not isolated from her friends or family... so why on earth had she chosen such a dark and dangerous profession? To the outside world, she was just a normal young woman, save for a couple of bumps and bruises. She could easily be a teacher or a doctor, and yet she chose to spend her time getting up close and personal with murderers, rapists and child molesters. That sort of thing makes a person hard and bitter and Eliza just... wasn't.

Scott pressed as much of his bare skin as he could manage against the tiles, trying to use the steady rhythm of his heart as a sleep aid. He shut his eyes and almost immediately the scent of Eliza's perfume filled his nostrils, feminine but spicy. Scott let out a small growl of frustration and began to count sheep.

X x X x X

_The very thought of you_

_And I forget to do_

_The little ordinary things_

_That everyone ought to do_

Pacing the floor. Start at one corner, end in the other.

It couldn't be long now.

The police had been all over the village but so far nothing had come of it, which meant that there was no waiting for the next one. As long as they were clueless, the show could go on.

_I'm living in a kind of daydream_

_I'm happy as a king_

_And foolish as it may seem_

_To me that's everything_

Pacing the floor. Too hot to sleep.

A couple of days and she would be here. The crumpled photograph in a hot little hand didn't do her justice. The way she spoke was so powerful and intelligent. Soon that wouldn't matter.

Because it doesn't matter how powerful you are if you don't know how to stay alive.

_The mere idea of you_

_The longing here for you _

_You'll never know_

_How slow the moments go_

'_Till I'm near to you_

_I see your face in every flower_

_Your eyes in stars above_

_It's just the thought of you_

_The very thought of you_

_My love_

X x X x X

Eliza drifted in and out of a restless sleep. The window was open as wide as it would go, but it wasn't the heat that was keeping her up.

As soon as she'd set foot inside, Auntie Joyce had honed in on her injuries and made her sit in the kitchen while she'd dabbed at Eliza with TCP and paper stitches. Uncle Tom had listened patiently, looked worried when she'd said her notes had been taken, angry when she'd recounted the altercation, and faintly proud when Eliza told of how Sergeant Scott had come to her rescue.

As soon as she'd been able, Eliza had attempted to rewrite her notes from memory. There were a few gaps, but overall it was fairly comprehensive. Once she'd gone over the reports from the ME and forensics, there would be enough for a preliminary profile.

But still, the same nagging feeling from the night before had come back to her. There was something so obvious, something she was missing that she felt sure would help.

Once again sleep crept up on her, and Eliza found herself dreaming of ration books and Glenn Miller. Anybody could see that the way the victims had been dressed was strange, but _why_ it was so strange was another matter altogether. Who would go to so much trouble?

And what were they trying to say?

X x X x X

Hope all my lovely readers are well!


	7. Chapter 7

Title: I'll Be Seeing You  
Author: Emily Lawrence  
Summary: Barnaby's niece, Forensic Psychologist Eliza Lockier is asked to work a particularly puzzling case alongside her uncle. Returning to Midsomer for the first time in years, she is confronted with memories of her past and the meeting of one Sergeant Dan Scott.  
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.  
Rating: Not sure yet.

Chapter Seven

X x X x X

Eliza stifled a yawn at the breakfast table the next morning, her eyes drooping into her coffee cup. Cully spared her a concerned glance from across the table "Are you feeling alright Lizzie?"

Eliza smiled drowsily "I'm fine. Just didn't sleep very well last night is all. I kept having funny dreams."

"Oh. Will you be perked up in time for tonight do you think?"

"Of course. A few coffees and I'll be as right as rain."

"I'd try to have them before you go into the mortuary if I were you. In my experience, a sleepy system coupled with the smell of-"

"-Yes, thank you Tom!" Joyce interrupted forcefully, watching her niece turn green at the mere thought.

X x X x X

"So where is Cully taking you tonight, Lizzie?" Inspector Barnaby glanced at his niece in the rear view mirror as she poured her third coffee down her throat in a vain attempt to wake herself up. Beside her on the seat sat a rapidly emptying take-out carrier that she had bought before getting into the car. She had passed one to himself and Sergeant Scott (who, Barnaby noticed, also looked as though he had not had much sleep), leaving four cups of coffee which, to her credit, she was making short work of.

Eliza drained the cardboard cup and gave her uncle a quick smile "Do you remember that bar in Causton we used to go to, Charlie's?"

"Oh _that_ old dive?"

"Not quite. Cully was telling me they shut it down and turned it into an Irish bar. It sounds pretty good. Maybe we'll try some other places first though."

"Just be careful, you. I'm not sure the residents of Causton are quite as understanding as those in Liverpool."

"What do you mean?" Eliza narrowed her eyes suspiciously "What has Cully told you?"

"Just about a small misdemeanour involving the use of traffic cones as hats..."

"Oh nooooo......." Eliza slid down as far as her seatbelt would allow, moaning sorrowfully through her hands.

"... and the impromptu park bench concerts..."

Eliza's response was muffled but the groans of shame were easy to recognise.

"... and the _en masse_ game of hide and seek arranged in one of Liverpool's most dangerous parks."

Eliza sat up straight then "That last one was justified, Uncle Tom," she protested "We were trying to get rid of some idiot blokes who kept following us from club to club. All we did was hide up a tree for half an hour."

Barnaby laughed and Scott had to smile at the affection between the two. The Inspector treated her as though she was another daughter, and Scott could tell that Eliza looked up to him. Hearing Barnaby reel off what had to be past instances in Eliza's life however, just served to further confuse him about the tiny blonde enigma seated in the back of the car.

Once again, today she was dressed to perfection (having managed to do her make-up before she got in the car this time) in figure hugging office wear and heels. Her short hair was off her face, pinned intricately and glamorously atop her head. This blonde bombshell of a woman couldn't be the same wild child his boss had just described. Or indeed the professional he had caught a glimpse of yesterday, who spent the majority of her working hours face to face with some of the country's darkest minds. It just didn't fit.

X x X x X

Eliza hesitated at the door of the mortuary. Scott noticed that her hand was gripping the handle of her bag so hard that her knuckles had gone white "Are you alright?"

She nodded her head mutely, her mouth set in a thin line. Inspector Barnaby had gone on ahead; deep in conversation with Dr. Bullard "I'm fine thank you."

She didn't look fine. In fact, she looked in danger of passing out. As they entered the room where Amanda Johnson's lifeless body lay, Eliza drew in a breath sharply. Dr. Bullard shot her a sympathetic look "Not a fan of the mortuary?"

"I never get used to it." She smiled weakly and drew her bag in front of her chest-an unconscious gesture, the meaning of which Scott could probably hazard a guess.

"Very much the same as the others," Dr. Bullard was saying "No sexual abuse, Petechial haemorrhaging on the eyeballs suggesting asphyxiation but hyoid bone still intact so no to manual strangulation. It's funny, with the level of bruising and damage to the body itself, I'd say it was as though she'd been buried alive and suffocated to death. And of course, there's the feet." He drew back the sheet to reveal Amanda Johnson's poor battered feet and instantly this proved a little too much for Eliza, whose free hand instinctively reached out and grabbed Scott's for support.

Scott got over his initial surprise at the sudden sensation of Eliza's soft hand in his own, and immediately felt a twinge of sympathy for the girl. Plenty of officers had a hard time getting used to the sounds and smells of the mortuary, and he didn't know why he'd assumed that she wouldn't have a problem with it. Crime scenes were different, there was more going on- more people, more action. In the mortuary there was one focus and that was death. Scott gave Eliza's hand a gentle squeeze and rubbed the pad of his thumb over her fingers in what he hoped was a comforting gesture "Keep breathing." He leaned close and whispered in her ear. Without taking her eyes off the slab, she nodded almost imperceptibly.

"But what on earth could do that to someone's feet?" Barnaby wondered aloud. Eliza frowned "They look blistered." She managed quietly. Dr. Bullard nodded "Why do you think that is?"

She shook her head "I can't think. It seems so familiar..."

"I'd say that was your key information." Dr. Bullard covered Amanda Johnson up completely and Eliza breathed a small sigh of relief, as though the thin white sheet separating her from the image of death somehow provided her with some degree of protection. Her grip on Scott's hand loosened considerably and then with a last grateful squeeze on his fingers, dropped away altogether. Although he did not care to admit it at the time, Scott found himself slightly disappointed.

Dr. Bullard handed Eliza the autopsy reports for each of the victims and saw them on their way. She stayed silent for the entire car journey back to the station, staring out of the window deep in thought. One of the desk sergeants was on maternity leave and so Eliza had been given loan of her desk. For the remainder of the day, she barely looked up, typing furiously on the computer, or staring out the window chewing mercilessly on the end of her biro.

Scott glanced at her every so often from across the room, trying (and failing) to stop thinking about the way her hatred of the mortuary had made him warm to her a little more, how that was yet another thing he could add to the list of things he didn't understand about her and, more than anything, the way her hand had felt in his.

Eventually, frustrated with himself, he rose and went to make a cup of coffee. Two constables were hiding in the canteen, talking amongst themselves. Their conversation barely registered with Scott until he heard the word 'profiler'. Knowing that could only be in reference to one person, he pricked up his ears.

"... to tell you the truth, I reckon the whole thing is bullshit. Psychological profiler? Pull the other one. She's just here to fill a quota isn't she? Stupid cow - probably thinks she's helping."

Scott felt the hairs on the back of his neck go up, but at the same time, a guilty feeling settled in his stomach. This time last week, he'd have said the same thing.

"Mind you, she's pretty hot stuff. Wouldn't say no. How about you, Sarge?"

Scott turned to look at the young constable, trying to conceal his anger. There was no reason for him to be this annoyed. He didn't even like Eliza that much, and it wasn't as though she was a permanent fixture here in Causton. He shrugged his shoulders, deciding the best response was to stay silent.

Inspector Barnaby listened from outside the door of the canteen. He hadn't been purposely eavesdropping, just passing by in fact. But Scott's lack of reply intrigued him. The young Sergeant was not exactly the heart and soul of police 'canteen' culture, but he was known, in the past, to have adopted the more minor facets of the phenomena. Barnaby had suspected that Eliza's arrival had put his nose out of joint and that he would have been keen to complain to someone. Instead, he had chosen to keep his opinion to himself. Barnaby smiled, fairly confidant that he had figured out the reason why Scott looked so tired today, and indeed, why he had looked so put out when Eliza had let go of his hand in the mortuary.

X x X x X

By the time most of the day shift were putting on their coats to leave, Eliza had 60% of the profile. But the victim's feet were still bothering her. Dr. Bullard was probably right – solving this piece of the puzzle was key. So what could have made those marks?

Barnaby tapped her on the shoulder "It's six o' clock Lizzie. I promised Cully I'd have you back and ready to hit the town by now. I think it's time to put it away for now don't you?"

Eliza smiled at her uncle. He recognised the classic obsessive signs from years of experience – he knew that left to her own devices, she would pore over a case file for days, forgetting to eat, sleep or even wash. Perhaps he was right. If there was one thing she'd learnt from working on police cases, it was that there had to come a point in the day where you put it away and thought about something else for a while.

X x X x X

Cully and Eliza raised the shot glasses filled to the brim with Tequila in a toasting fashion and clinked them together before drinking them down in one.

Eliza gasped as the colourless liquid trickled down her oesophagus, mingling with the lime juice and salt granules "I _so_ needed that."

Cully laughed and signalled to the barman for a refill. She and Eliza had trawled the somewhat limited selection of bars in Causton, finally ending up at a rowdy Irish pub, drinking heavily and acting like they were eighteen again. Cully had forgotten how much fun Eliza could be. There was some magnetic quality in her that both entertained and endeared men. Even now, several men at various locations in the bar were eyeing her with lust and amusement.

"So Lizzie," She began, fuelled with drink and feeling marginally giggly "What have you done to our Sergeant Scott then?"

Eliza frowned deeply and bit her lip "I don't understand. I haven't _done_ anything to him."

"Oh come _on_. Even dad's noticed it."

"What did Uncle Tom say?" Eliza suddenly looked worried, her eyes widening.

"Only that Dan looked up a bit upset when you let go of his hand in the mortuary. Yes, he _did _notice that." Cully laughed as her cousin groaned and slumped forward on the bar "So is _that_ what you did to make him sweet on you then?"

"He's _not_ sweet on me. I don't even think he likes me that much Cully. You might be a bit off-base on this one."

"I don't think so..." Cully sang "I think he looked at you almost lustfully when he came to pick you up this morning."

"That is absolute rubbish and I don't believe a word of it." Eliza slurred "Besides, who said I fancied him?"

"I can see it in your eyes..." Cully winked mischievously. Eliza rolled her eyes "Whatever you say. Come on," She said, grabbing Cully's hand and climbing unsteadily to her feet in her towering heels "I'm going to find us some handsome men to dance with."

X x X x X

Hope you like!


	8. Chapter 8

Title: I'll Be Seeing You  
Author: Emily Lawrence  
Summary: Barnaby's niece, Forensic Psychologist Eliza Lockier is asked to work a particularly puzzling case alongside her uncle. Returning to Midsomer for the first time in years, she is confronted with memories of her past and the meeting of one Sergeant Dan Scott.  
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.  
Rating: Not sure yet.

I'm so sorry for not updating for so long! Rest assured, my degree is over now and I'm not going back into education for another year, so hopefully wil be able to update a bit more often! Special thanks to Rosamund Charlotte and Merenwen Telemnar for sticking with me!

Chapter Eight

X x X x X

Mouth as dry as cotton wool. Head pounding. Stomach churning. The faint stench of kebab on clothes that she had been too drunk to take off.

"Urrrrrrgggghhh..."

Eliza turned over and promptly fell off the bed with a _clunk_ "Owwwww..."

Hauling herself into an upright position, Eliza squinted through eyes that last night's mascara had glued shut, faintly able to deduce that not only had she been too intoxicated to disrobe, but she had also been in too sorry a state to take her shoes off. She had taken them off at some point, Eliza recalled fuzzily, but some sorry excuse for a man had thrown them in Causton fountain when she refused to bestow upon him her phone number. Having waded in to retrieve them without a second thought, she had decided to risk jamming them back on her feet rather than losing them due to the tantrum of another adult toddler. Reaching down, Eliza fumbled clumsily with the straps, gasping with pain as she slid the shoes off.

Reaching for her mobile phone, she tried desperately to work out what the blurry numbers swimming in front of her vision were. Hearing voices downstairs, she worked out it must be at least mid-morning. A pitiful sight, Eliza heaved herself onto all fours and crawled out onto the landing, opting to callously abandon her vow of ladylike behaviour at all times and come down the stairs on her backside.

Hobbling into the kitchen, she was greeted with the sight of Cully sat at the table with Joyce, looking hauntingly similar to how Eliza imagined she herself looked. Cully managed to lift her head long enough to smile sleepily at her cousin "Top night."

Eliza returned the smile and staggered over to the table, careful to walk on the parts of her feet not damaged by her shoes "It was brilliant."

"Well I'm glad you enjoyed yourselves girls, but it looks as though you're paying for it now," Joyce got up and gestured towards the kitchen "Would you like some breakfast?"

She was met with grateful groans in the affirmative, and so set about frying all manner of greasy food "Oh by the way Lizzie, your uncle went to the station to get an update on that chap that took your notes. They haven't found him but he got caught up in paperwork and rang to say that Daniel will be stopping by this morning to drop off the rest of the reports you asked for. "

"Hear that Lizzie?" Cully croaked "Your boyfriend is coming over."

"What's this?" Joyce looked up from her frying pan, interested.

"Nothing," Eliza said quickly, feeling her cheeks redden slightly "Cully's just making things up."

"Mum, don't you think that Dan's got a bit of a crush on Lizzie? Remember what Dad said about the mortuary?"

Joyce laughed "Oh I wouldn't if I were you Lizzie. I hear he's a bit of a ladykiller."

Eliza smiled, remembering her conversation with Scott in the lane by Annie Walker's cottage "I'm sure his reputation has been somewhat exaggerated. But it doesn't matter because I have yet to swoon over him."

"He is handsome though..." Joyce mused as she turned back to the stove.

"Mum!" Cully scoffed, picking up the local paper and perusing the front. Eliza sat back in her chair and relished the feeling of being in the only place that felt like home anymore. She remembered many mornings like this when she and Cully were younger, crawling out of bed supremely hung-over to be greeted with a home-cooked meal and friendly banter with her aunt and uncle. Then she would get into her tiny little car that only ran every other day and go back to Badger's Drift and spend the rest of the weekend with her mother. Until her mother met George.

George had been odd from the start. A suspicious character with a short fuse, not at all like the other men her mother had dated. But he seemed to have her in some sort of trance. She never argued with him, even when he began asking her to hide things in the house. Jewellery. Money. Silly things like keys and letter openers. Then one day...

"They're having that Tea-dance in Midsomer Worthy again on Thursday." Cully observed, not looking up from the paper "In commemoration of D-day. At the Eight Bells."

"That'll be nice. We should go." Joyce set two plates heaped with greasy food in front of both girls, who tucked in without abandon, ignoring the queasy feelings in their stomachs.

By the time their plates were empty, both Cully and Eliza were back to a state of relative normality, their blood sugars almost fully restored.

"Thanks mum. I desperately need a shower." Said Cully, gingerly picking up a piece of her hair and dropping it almost at once in disgust.

Just then, a brisk knock at the door made them all jump "That'll be Daniel." Joyce rose from her seat and went to answer the door. Once she was out of earshot Cully sent Eliza a sly wink "Hear that Lizzie? I bet he's brought flowers. Better go and tidy yourself up."

"Shut up. I don't even fancy him." Eliza rolled her eyes.

"Still, it's probably best to get that bit of kebab out of your hair."

"Eh?" Eliza checked her reflection in the back of a spoon "Oh _shag_."

"With half chewed spicy beef in your hair, I doubt it."

"Help me get it out!"

"I thought you didn't fancy him." Cully grinned as she walked around to Eliza's side of the table and began to try and extract the offending foodstuff from her cousin's hair.

"I _don't_." Eliza hissed as they heard footsteps coming along the corridor "I just don't think looking like I had a bunk-up with Worzel Gummidge screams 'Respect me as a professional'."

"Since when do you care if anyone respects you as a professional?" Cully inadvertently yanked Eliza's head back as Scott appeared through the kitchen door, several large folders piled up in his arms. Eliza let out a high pitched yelp and Scott stopped dead in his tracks, a single eyebrow cocked.

"Have I stumbled on something I shouldn't?"

"No," Cully said sweetly "We always start the day by picking meat out of each other's hair. Sit yourself down Dan. Cup of tea?"

"If you're making one, thanks." Scott plonked the folders down on the table and sat down next to Eliza, whose eyes were firmly fixed on the tablecloth, her cheeks turning an alarming shade of red "Good morning Eliza. Do you think that you've had enough meat picked out of your hair for one day?"

From across the kitchen Cully snorted with laughter. Eliza looked up to see Dan grinning mischievously "What have you got for me?" she croaked, attributing the fluttering in her stomach to her hangover and not the fact that Scott had a sweet smile.

"Forensic Report from Amanda Johnson's house and a few witness reports from around Midsomer Worthy. Just so you know, Chief Smith was wondering if you could have the profile up and running in the next thirty-six hours?"

Eliza nodded "Sure thing. Are you going back to Midsomer Worthy today?"

"Yeah, I was going to poke around, see if I could uncover anything. Why?"

"Would you mind if I came with you? I'd quite like to follow up with those men from the pub."

Scott stared at Eliza for a moment, her lip still swollen, hair in disarray, eyes still hooded from sleep, last night's clothes hanging crumpled on her slender frame. He wrinkled his nose "What's that smell?"

"That would be Lizzie's jeans." Said Cully helpfully, handing a cup of tea to Scott who smiled gratefully but frowned confusedly at her comment "What's wrong with your jeans?"

The blush began to creep back into Eliza's cheeks once more "You know that fountain in Causton town centre?"

Scott narrowed his eyes "Yes?"

"I might have jumped in it."

"Really?" Scott fought to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"It was a mission of mercy."

X x X x X

Less than an hour later, Eliza was showered, dressed and once again, seated in the front of Scott's car adjusting her lipstick. As Scott pulled away from Inspector Barnaby's house he couldn't resist "So how did your shoes end up in a fountain?"

"Oh you know what it's like. A chap offers to carry your shoes and throws them into the nearest water feature when you don't give him your number."

"Actually, I don't know what that's like but I'm guessing it happens to you quite a lot."

"It's how I lose most of my shoes." Eliza laughed dryly, obviously meaning for it to be a joke, but Scott got the feeling there was a grain of truth in what she said.

"That must get irritating."

"What can I say? I'm picky about who gets my number."

Scott stole a glance across the car at her. Her lip still jutted out noticeably and the lump of her forehead was now a painful looking bruise. Despite this, he could see why any man with eyes would want her on his arm. She was not the most beautiful woman in the world, but her pixie-like features and happy disposition made her very attractive.

But there was something else. The sparkle that she managed to retain in spite of working under traumatising conditions was unfathomable. There was something charmingly unapologetic in the way she conducted herself. She had not been afraid to show her discomfort in the mortuary, and when he had entered the kitchen that morning and seen her at her most un-preened, she simply asked what he had brought for her instead of girlishly giggling and attempting to hide her make-up streaked face. Her self confidence glimmered from within.

Oh crap. He fancied her.

X x X x X

Eliza's feet, still aching from the night before, were hurting like hell in the black ballet flats she had forced them into. Having looked at her choice of heels and decided that she was neither that brave nor stupid, Eliza had sat on the bed staring at the flats for ten minutes, breathing slowly and willing the blistered skin on her feet to stop burning as she slowly slipped them into the little Chanel beauties. As she limped down to the car Scott had eyed her with vague suspicion but remained silent until she was safely ensconced in the passenger seat.

As the car entered Midsomer Worthy, the clouds began to part revealing a cheerfully shining sun. Eliza groaned and shrank back into her seat, reaching into her handbag and digging out her sunglasses "Was the sun always this bright?"

Scott laughed as he parked the car near the village green and the two of them set off in the direction of the pub, with Eliza's steps still somewhat delicate as they walked. Scott raised his face toward the sun, allowing the warmth the wash over him.

He was much more amicable now, Eliza thought, stealing a glance at him from behind her shades. In her experience, members of the constabulary fell into two camps – the hostile and the patronising. Bizarrely, it was easier to work amongst people who hated her rather than those who merely indulged her because senior management had told them to. Eliza knew that working with her uncle and his colleagues would be a different kettle of fish, but she had not expected to forge what could be termed as some semblance of a working relationship with the young sergeant – indeed, when she had met Scott four days before she had anticipated that he would be more than difficult to get along with. Instead, Eliza found herself warming to him slightly, the fire in his belly challenging and entertaining her all at once. He was a gentleman though, Eliza mused, thinking about how he had come to her rescue when she had been attacked a few days before, and stayed to anaesthetize her aching head with alcohol despite clearly having better things to do.

As they approached the Eight Bells pub, Scott could see the residents of Midsomer Worthy out sunning themselves over a pint. The good weather had created some rush for outdoor seating, and a few patrons had given up on finding chairs at all, instead perching on the pavement with their drinks placed precariously next to them.

Their casual milling about quickly turned to tense and defensive stares as they caught sight of Eliza and Scott approaching. A few of the younger men glanced lustfully at Eliza's petite hourglass figure before shooting dirty looks at Scott, who dutifully ignored them. Upon entering the pub, silence fell as customers turned to survey the unfamiliar newcomers. Scott leaned in close to Eliza's ear and whispered "Hair of the dog?" She smiled slightly "Gin and Tonic please."

Having ordered their drinks, they made their way back outside and fortuitously stumbled upon a bench that had been left empty near group of tables. Seated at the table nearest to them were two older women drinking tumblers of whiskey. Both were smoking cigarettes and watching a young women two tables over, clearly a high flying city worker and buried so deeply in the work that she had been forced to bring home with her that she had failed to notice the disdainful stares she had earned from the other two women. They were dressed immaculately, both sporting twinsets and pencil skirts. They both wore wedding rings and expensive looking jewellery. They were enough alike to be sisters, Eliza thought. Not twins, but close enough in birth to both be in their late seventies. They had a look of severity about them, like an unfriendly schoolmarm. It struck her that they probably found the young working woman as displeasing as it contradicted their ideals of how a woman should behave – a career? Certainly not. Unthinkable.

It took Eliza a moment to build up the right persona in her mind. Choosing a moment when one of the women happened to be glancing in her direction she leaned towards Scott and grasped his hand a little to get his attention "I need to talk to those women and I'm going to need to act as though I want to catch you for myself. Can you follow my lead?"

Scott hadn't heard much of what Eliza had said as her lips had brushed his ear slightly when she had leant toward him, and the warmth of her hand on his again was distracting to say the least. He merely nodded and was rewarded with a small squeeze on his hand and a flirtatious smile.

"Do you have your cigarettes, darling?" Eliza's question was just loud enough for the two women to hear, and the one sat closest to their bench discreetly turned her head to watch. Scott patted his pockets "Not on me, sorry."

"Shame. Bear with me sweetheart, I may have to go begging." Eliza clambered to her feet and pretended to cast her eye around. Smiling sweetly when her gaze landed upon the two women, she made her way over "Excuse me ladies, I'm so sorry to interrupt you, but I was wondering if I could possibly trouble you for a cigarette? My friend doesn't appear to have brought his with us."

"Of course." The slightly less severe looking of the two opened a pretty little cigarette case and proffered it to Eliza "Take one for your friend as well if you like."

"Thank you so much, it's very kind of you." Eliza selected two of the cigarette "My name is Lizzie, by the way, and that handsome devil over there is Daniel. Poor chap, the cigarettes were probably the last thing on his mind this morning when we left."

"I'm Vivian Dubois, and this is my younger sister Iris Islington." Eliza shook their hands and noted how slim and healthy they both looked for their age, how firm their handshakes were. Only the lines and crepe-like skin around their eyes betrayed the illusion of youth their spry looking bodies and rigid postures created.

"Are you out for a drive in the country today?" Iris, the more formidable sister spoke at last, gesturing for Eliza to sit down and turning to beckon Scott over. Eliza smiled affectionately at him as he shook their hands and took a seat next to her. "Well... sort of. Daniel is a Detective Sergeant with the Causton constabulary and I assist on some cases, giving a little help here and there... " Daniel smiled at the expert way Eliza played up his career whilst only glossing over her own in order to make the sisters believe that she was happy to let him 'be the man', so to speak. Eliza, pausing only to light up her cigarette, went on "Well, Daniel and all the other boys at the station are hard at work on these awful _murders,_" Eliza whispered the word, wrinkling her nose as though it had brought a bad taste to her mouth "and I'm helping where I can, you see. Daniel wanted to come out to Midsomer Worthy today and I suggested that I come with him to take a few notes here and there if he needs me to. But secretly," She leaned in conspiratorially toward the sisters, a shy smile on her lips "We've discovered that we rather like spending time together and so we've decided to make a day of it." She patted Scott's knee and instinctively he reached for her hand. He didn't know whether to laugh or present her with an Oscar.

"I say, a bit of an office romance then, how marvellous." Vivian smiled warmly and Eliza dipped her head bashfully. Iris, however, surveyed her with more disdain "And you say you _work_ with the police?"

Eliza's eyes widened "Well, only in a very small way. It's almost... secretarial really. I have a knack for people, and every so often when the poor old chaps start to feel the strain of it all, I pop in and make the tea, dole out the biscuits and take the notes and so on. Just to be a help." Scott noted with increasing incredulity that what Eliza really had a knack for was telling the truth in a way that appealed most to people. What she had said hadn't been misleading, simply utilising a different set of semantics. She hadn't mentioned that _everyone_ made tea at some point in their time at the station, that _everyone _took notes and passed around biscuits and technically, she hadn't needed to. She had presented a set of facts, and the sisters had chosen to interpret them in a way that suited them. Damn, this woman was good.

"Oh how _sweet_ of you." Vivian said "I always think it's most unattractive for a woman to try to take a man's place, don't you? All these women police officers and lawyers and doctors can't be doing themselves or men any good by running themselves ragged simply to prove a point. Of course during the war it was different, but nowadays there is just no need for it."

"I quite agree with you. In fact," Eliza lowered her voice again and gestured with her eyes to the young woman Iris and Vivian had been glaring at "I was just looking at that poor creature over there and thinking how ghastly it must be for her husband, to have a wife so intent on ruining herself."

"That's the very point I made to Iris before you came over to us. She's an accountant, you know. Commutes from here to London and back again every day. Her husband, John Farrow, is our gardener, and he says she doesn't get in until gone midnight sometimes, and then she's out again before the sun is up. Looking at you though, my dear, it does my heart good to see that some girls have their priorities in order. How on earth can she," an aggressive but discreet jerk of the thumb toward the woman in question "expect to keep a man with that attitude? Just like those murdered women. All high flyers, all either divorced or spinsters, all childless. That's no life for a woman. The fact is, if they hadn't been killed, they wouldn't have worked themselves into early and lonely graves anyway. Almost a mercy, really." Vivian closed her mouth decisively as if to punctuate her little rant. Out of the corner of her eye, Eliza could see the young career woman – Mrs Farrow – begin to pack up her papers angrily. Obviously she had overheard Vivian's soliloquy. She stormed from the pub garden, with Iris and Vivian's gaze on her back.

Scott could feel Eliza's nails digging into his palm slightly and rubbed the pad of his thumb across her knuckles in what he hoped was a comforting manner. Eliza smiled sweetly, but her jaw was tense "Were they active in the community, those women?"

Vivian sniffed derisively "Not really dear. They didn't like to interact. I expect they thought they were a little too grand for us."

Eliza shook her head sadly "Fancy that."

Scott leaned forward, suddenly interested "Did they ever upset anybody in particular?"

"A couple of the local chaps tried to court the Wakeman girl, but she rejected them outright, and Millie Barnes used to invite her city men to stay at her cottage – a different one every week. Disgraceful."

"Anything else you might be able to think of at all?"

Both sisters shook their heads. Eliza gave Scott's hand a squeeze "Darling, let's not disturb these ladies any further. Thank you so much for the cigarettes, ladies. Will you be at the Tea dance on Thursday?"

Both of the sisters drew themselves up proudly at this "Of course," said Iris airily "We arrange it every year to commemorate the soldiers who died on D-Day."

"How wonderful. Well, we'll see you there!" Eliza and Scott stood to leave. "That," Scott said once they were fully out of earshot "Was amazing. Why didn't you become an actress?"

"Thought my talents could be put to use elsewhere," Eliza grinned cheekily "You weren't too bad yourself, you know. Honestly, some people are so narrow minded they'll grab onto anything that will reinforce their values, even something as obviously fake as a courtship between us." Eliza smiled at Scott and he felt his stomach drop a little.

As they walked back to the car, Scott caught sight of the young woman from the pub talking angrily to a handsome man "I don't want you working for those evil old witches, John!" she hissed. Scott discreetly nudged Eliza.

"We should probably keep an eye on her."

Eliza nodded in agreement "You're right, she could well be our next victim."

"And I don't know what you think you're looking at!" Mrs Farrow had turned her glare onto Eliza and Scott "Honestly! It's women like you who've held feminism back! I bet you don't even vote!" she advanced on Eliza, fire in her eyes. Eliza stared at her. John Farrow, a well built man, tanned from years of outside work, stepped forward, his hands held in an appeasement gesture "Holly, please..."

"Shut _up_ John, this is nothing to do with you!" Holly Farrow's voice dripped with poison "This silly bint is the reason women like me don't get taken seriously!"

"Actually, Mrs Farrow," Eliza began delicately "I'm sorry you overheard our conversation with Iris and Vivian. While I can't vouch for their views, I can assure you that my own are quite different from those that were expressed. I'm a psychologist." She offered by way of an explanation "Sometimes it pays to be a little... creative when gathering intelligence."

"Psychology? You think that bollocks make you important? It's all voodoo, missy, and I bet all the police officers you work with think so too." And with that, Holly Farrow stormed off. Her husband looked at Scott apologetically "Sorry about that. She's been stressed lately."

Scott shrugged "It's not me she shouted at."

John Farrow made apologetic noises in Eliza's direction before hurrying off with his head down.

"Well," Eliza exhaled heavily "the words 'Super-bitch' springs to mind. Do you think they were all like that?"

X x X x X

Reviews welcome!


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